


The best part of waking up...

by aquarpisc



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M, Sibling Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-16
Updated: 2013-12-16
Packaged: 2018-01-04 20:45:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1085511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquarpisc/pseuds/aquarpisc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU  Katniss reunites with a loved one. Folgerssiblingincest!Everlark</p>
            </blockquote>





	The best part of waking up...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [slagheapwhore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/slagheapwhore/gifts).



> This was written for Prompts in Panem Everlark during the holiday season on tumblr after my sister, Supersudzissecretlyamellark, put the idea in my head. So blame her. It was a joyous experience filled with idiotic laughter and corny descriptions. Thanks to Supersudzissecreltyamellark for looking it over and offering her insights. Also to Peetakatnisseverlark for her help on this also! Also, I’m truly sorry for this, but remember, I wrote it for laughs.

The Christmas lights are still on as I sit and wait impatiently at my spot by the window. I look out the window and my face lights up in a smile as I see such a glorious sight. My brother has arrived. I run to the front door, throwing it open. At first glance, you wouldn’t be able to tell we’re even related. Peeta takes after our mother, blonde and blue eyed. Except while hers are a soft, almost faded blue, his are as azure as the ocean; as cerulean as the sky on a cloudless day. While I favor our father, dark haired and according to me, a dull grey. Peeta likes to describe them as grey as hazy smoke.

He looks confused when he sees me, looking up to see if he has the right place. “I must have the wrong house,” he says in jest.

His audacity only makes him cuter. “Sister,” I laugh at the smirk on his face and jump into his arms, holding onto him as tight as I can. “Oh, I missed you so much!”

I take a deep breath and the scent of cinnamon and dill invade my senses. We part and I grab his hand, dragging him through the house, past the fully decorated Christmas tree while Peeta flicks a bell ornament on the tree, making it jingle and into the kitchen.

“I waited up all night for you, you know,” I tell him as we enter the room jumping up onto the counter and making myself comfortable.

He sets his bag down while replying, “It’s a long way from the Capital.” Peeta’s been in the capital studying Art. I’ve missed him like crazy. The house hasn’t been the same without him sleeping under the same roof.

“Ah, real coffee,” he bends down and sniffs the air near the coffee machine. The aroma permeates the air and he grabs a cup and begins to fill it.

I can tell our parents will soon be down once the smell hits their noses.

“I brought you something from far away,” he says, filling his cup to the brim and sets down the coffee pot with the delicious smelling brew.

A smile appears on my face in anticipation and I chuckle. “Really?” I say and he hands me the small, neatly wrapped box. “Oh.” 

I take it and turn it back and forth admiring the pretty red bow on top. He’s taking a sip of his coffee when I get the best idea. Grabbing the bow, I place it on his shoulder and he looks up in surprise, a small smile appearing on his face. He chuckles nervously and asks, “What are you doing?”  
I give him the sweetest smile I can muster, “You’re my present this year.”

He stares at me with a small smile of his own, his eyes flicker down just a second before meeting my eyes again. There’s something on the tip of his tongue when our parents burst into the room and the spell is broken. Our moment alone is now over and for some reason, disappointment fills my belly. After our parents get in their hugs, I jump off the counter and pull him in for one last hug, holding on tightly, dreading the moment when I will finally have to let go.

“The Best part of waking up, is Folgers in your cup.”


End file.
